


Road Trip

by candicame



Series: NightVale Child AU [2]
Category: Gravity Falls, Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Crossover, F/M, M/M, Multi, Road Trip
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-26 13:00:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5005741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candicame/pseuds/candicame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Palmer/Scientist/Harlan gang go on a roadtrip to meet Carlos's family.  In the same universe as "The Child", and inspired by all the kind comments and encouragement that story got!  Thank you guys so much!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Carloooooooooos,” Cecil called out as he stepped through the door, leafing through envelopes and holding a cardboard box under his arm.

 

“In the lab, babe!” Came the reply, followed by the sound of an explosion, followed by a child's laughter.

 

Cecil followed all these sounds as he took the stairs to the basement, going through the mail, and only looked up after he heard Carlos explaining /something/ about chemical reactions. He sat the cardboard box on a work-surface and pulled himself onto a stool. Casey's face was covered in soot, except for a strange clean spot around her eyes left by the safety goggles. Carlos was giggling, and picking up a beautiful crystal with a pair of tongs.

 

“Let's see,” Cecil went on, “Electric bill, sewer bill, water bill, gravity bill,”

 

“I'm not paying that,” Carlos interrupted, “We didn't have gravity for /three days/ last month, and until they agree not to charge us I'm not paying.”

 

“They'll shut it off!”

 

“I told you to call them,” he continued, walking to the flame hood and setting the crystal inside, “Everything was floating around... I have a /lot/ of experiments that need the laws of physics to /work/.”

 

“You got the gutters cleaned,” Cecil pointed out.

 

“That's not the point,” Carlos pouted.

 

“What's this?” Casey asked, trying to get the box Cecil had sat down.

 

“Don't fool with that,” Cecil pushed it farther back, out of her reach, “That's from the venomous pet of the month club. We're just gonna throw that in the incinerator.”

 

“I thought you canceled that?” Carlos asked, coming over and pushing the safety goggles onto his forehead. He leaned down and planted a quick kiss to the tip of Cecil's nose, tickling him and forcing a giggle.

 

“I did,” Cecil tried to let out an exasperated sigh, but couldn't quite pull it off with Carlos still so close to his face, “I canceled three times. They keep sending them.”

 

“There's a hole in this!” Casey pointed out, and Carlos leaned his forehead onto Cecil's as Cecil let out a groan.

 

“Oooh!” Cecil announced, “Here! This will make you feel better about the potential death that just escaped that box.” He handed Carlos a letter.

 

Carlos took it and his face lit up, “Cecil! She wrote back! She wrote back! She never answers the phone, she won't tell me her e-mail, she doesn't have a facebook, but /she wrote back/!” He ripped into the envelope.

 

“Who?” Casey asked, finally reaching and opening the empty box.

 

“My sister!” Carlos's grin was lighting the room as he read over the letter, “She says that she's happy to hear from me! That she wants to see me! That she wants to see Casey! That...” he paused and trailed of, his brow furrowing for a minute before perking up again, “Anyway... it's been a /long/ time since I've been home. Years... I can't wait to see everybody again.” his grin took on a more... sinister appearance as he moved closer to Cecil and wrapped his arms around his waist, “To show you off.”

 

Cecil giggled and wrapped his arms around Carlos's shoulders, “Oooo,” he matched his smile, “You want to brag about your fancy 'scientifically interesting' boyfriend?”

 

“Mm-hm,” Carlos hummed, leaning in, pulling Cecil closer.

 

“Well,” Cecil's voice had dropped a full octave, “I'll have to request some vacation time,” he slid his hands down to play with the lapels of Carlos's lab coat, “But I'm sure I can work /something/ out. I can be /quite/ /persuasive/.”

 

“You are /very/ good at getting what you want,” Carlos agreed.

 

“THERE IT IS” Casey shrieked, pointing at a scorpion. Acting quickly she pulled a random book from a shelf and threw it with all her might. There was a sickening crunch of a broken exoskeleton, followed by a round of applause from Cecil.

 

“Perfect throw, sweety!” he exclaimed, “Tamika would be proud.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heading out of Night Vale!

“Carlos,” Earl explained, holding an unfolded map as he walked from the living room to where Carlos was loading luggage into the back of the science van, “I've studied this /illegal/ map you gave me and the fastest route I can find is going to be thirteen hours.”

 

“That's about right,” Carlos agreed with a nod, staring into the back of the van, “Three kids and Cece in a car, for thirteen hours. This is gonna be... something.”

 

Earl chuckled and folded the map out of fear that a secret police officer would jump out of a bush or a tree or the like, “We're all looking forward to meeting your family. It's going to be fine. We're going to love them.”

 

“Yeah I'm not worried about that. My sister's going to love you too... it's just... something else. Little things. It's nothing. There might be a fight with my parents.” He hastily threw the remaining luggage in the back of the van and walked back towards the apartment.

 

“Wait, what?” Earl called after him.

 

“Nothing!”

 

Cecil was standing by the fridge with a cooler, “We'll stop for fast food I'm sure, you don't need-” he cut himself off, “Nothing what?”

 

While he was distracted Casey hastily shoved the contents of the snack drawer into the cooler.

 

Carlos laughed nervously, “Nothing? Nothing tralala?”

 

“Oh Carlos, I'm going to miss Koshek so much... I made the interns promise to send me a new picture every day that we're away. But I'm /excited/! I haven't been outside NightVale since my trip to Europe after high school.” his voice changed inflections without breaking his gaze with Carlos, “Casey I see you; I'm omnipotent! You three don't need that much sugar you're going to be stuck in the back of the van! I don't want a chorus of 'Roger's touching me!' 'Janice is looking at me!' 'Casey's using her all-seeing eye to cheat!'”

 

“Cheat at what?” She asked, ignoring his demand that she stop packing chocolate.

 

“I don't know... travel games. Travel games are a thing.” He shrugged. Roger came up behind him, and stealthy slid the strap off his shoulder to help Casey shove juice packs inside. Cecil sighed, “We're not taking bathroom breaks every few seconds.” He made his way to the counter where his morning coffee was brewing, and dug through the cabinets until he found a thermos. As he filled it, he turned his attention to Carlos again, “How long did Earl say it would take to get to Organ?”

 

“Oregon,” Carlos corrected, “Half a day. We should get there by dinner time if we drive straight through. I tried to call ahead but she's still not picking up.” Carlos frowned at his phone, “But I wrote her, and she should be expecting us. If nothing else, we can have a nice vacation. There's a series of tourist traps we can take in or... something.”

 

Cecil crossed the counter and cupped Carlos's face in his hands, “I'm sure she's ready, and just as excited as we are.”

 

“Yup,” Carlos agreed, “Excited. We sure are /excited/. Excitement completely sums up the emotional spectrum of what we are all feeling. Ex-cite-ment.” he laughed nervously, then heartily, and eventually trailed off into hysterical convulsions. He was /super/ excited to introduce his conservative, religious parents to his boyfriends and children. Ex-cite-ed.

 

Cecil watched him with growing curiosity, tilting his head in confusion. Carlos was a terrible actor and he knew that /something/ was bothering him, but he wasn't going to ask him about it in front of the children. He knew that whatever it was, they could discuss it in private, but wondered if he should try to have that discussion before they got on the road. Carlos eventually caught his breath and buried his face in Cecil's shoulder. Cecil stroked his hair.

 

Earl stepped inside and surveyed the room. His gaze caught Cecil, so he walked away toward the kitchen to deal with the kids. “Last call,” he explained, “Make sure you have everything you need because we're going to be gone for a week and we aren't coming back once we pull out of the driveway.”

 

Roger looked offended, “I'm /always/ prepared.”

 

“I'M READY UNCLE EARLY” Casey /shrieked/, and Earl prepared himself for twelve hours of dumbassery. It was worth it. For Carlos.

 

“Ok then,” he massaged his temples, “Go. Get in the car. We're right behind you.”

 

“Right,” Roger saluted, took Casey's hand with a grin, and led her outside.

 

Earl watched them in the yard through the open front door and turned his attention to the living room. “What's going on?”

 

“Carlos is,” Cecil began, but Carlos cut him off, sweeping a few stray hairs out of his face.

 

“Fine!” He explained, rubbing his eyes, “A scientist is always fine. But... we probably need to talk about... I need to make it clear that if /anyone/ from the university thinks that they see me, they /didn't/. I am /not/ back. I am /not/ the research scientist they lost. I was /never/ there.”

 

Earl studied him for a few long seconds before nodding. Cecil kissed his cheek and glanced at Earl, who rolled his eyes before leaning in and kissing the other side. His face colored instantly and he rubbed the back of his neck. After a second, Carlos wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close. He rubbed a hand over his face, covering it, without thinking. He spent far too long silent before he was able to find his voice again.

 

“So,” he said finally, “I think I'll take the first shift. Cecil's not awake and you can navigate.”

 

“The gps will navigate,” Carlos explained, “I can drive.”

 

“I don't trust your robotic overlord,” Earl narrowed his eyes, “I took it out to the sand wastes and it almost drove me off a cliff.”

 

“Well it can navigate the highway better than the sand wastes... the sand waste change faster. The highway has to have, you know, human intervention,” Carlos explained, but Earl was in no mood.

 

“Can we /please/ just use the map and the magnetic poles like every other creature on the planet. I know you like your little gadgets but I don't want to get lost in Organ.”

 

“Oregon,” Carlos giggled, “Like, use your mouth. O-re-gon”.

 

“Wait, like the video game?” Earl put his hands on his hips, in thought.

 

“Yes!” Carlos /finally/ found some common ground, and was eager to see how it was going to be pulled right out from under his feet.

 

“With the dysentery? And the wagon?”

 

“Yes!” Carlos felt his excitement actually climbing.

 

“And the zombies?” Cecil pipped up, helpfully.

 

Carlos sighed, “No, the zombies /are/ Organ Trail, he's talking about /Oregon/ trail. You know what, doesn't matter. We should go ahead and hit the road. Did you do the rituals to seal the house while we're gone?”

 

“Almost,” Cecil explained, grabbing Carlos's hand and guiding him out, “We each need to make a blood sacrifice on the door to keep out dimensional entities higher than the fourth plane of existence.”

 

“Each?” Earl arched an eyebrow.

 

“Yes, Earl, /each/,” Cecil was annoyed without his coffee, which he scooped from the counter.

 

“I don't live here,” Earl protested.

 

“Whatever Mr “I have a house with a dog and a mortgage”,” Cecil mocked as he pushed Carlos out onto the lawn, “Just bleed on the door.”

 

“Are you going to be like this the entire trip?” Earl asked, “Gods it's like going camping all over again.”

 

“You love camping with me,” Cecil countered, as he closed and locked the door. He pricked his fingertip and drew a circle as the purple of his eyes faded, eventually becoming so light that the iris seemed to disappear.

 

“I had mixed feelings about them,” Earl argued back with a smart-ass smirk.

 

“You two are adorable,” Carlos hid his grin with his hand and Earl pulled it down and held it tightly.

 

When Cecil turned to look at them again his pupils were also missing, and when he spoke, both sets of his vocal chords vibrated. He said something in Sumerian, but Carlos was still learning and wasn't /exactly/ sure what it was, but he let Earl guide his hand to the center of the symbol Cecil had drawn, let Cecil prick the center of his palm, and pressed hard, letting the wood soak up the blood. Earl pulled his palm away and lapped at the wound as Cecil took /his/ hand and repeated the ritual. Carlos shuddered. He still had an interest in Night Vale rituals that befitted an outsider, and sometimes had difficulty separating his /scientific/ and /personal/ interests. Blood-bonding still seemed /painfully/ intimate to him, though he knew that it was mundane to his lovers; Cecil had to perform such a ritual for station management to clock in to work every day.

 

When they climbed into the van, Carlos took the passenger seat, like Earl had instructed, but Cecil climbed into the third tow, the /entire/ third row, and just lay across the seat. Casey, who had lost the rock-paper-scissors contest and had, therefore been regulated to the center with no access to a window, turned around in her seat and studied Cecil as if she had forgotten the back seat existed.

 

“I'M GOING TO SIT WITH DADDY!” she announced, and climbed over the seat. Roger's face lit up with fear.

 

“Mm-hm,” Carlos agreed, studying the map, “Buckle up. Alright, we go pick up Janice and then hit the highway. This is a pretty straight shot, Earl. You don't need a navigator.”

 

Earl shrugged, “Maybe I have a crush on the navigator and tried to get him to sit close to me so I could get my pheromones all in his personal space. You know, because science.”

 

Carlos unfolded the map and studied it with a fierce intensity and the kind of smirk that he didn't /know/ made him look absolutely irresistible. He didn't look up even as Earl pulled out of the driveway and toward their adventure.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang arrive at Carlos's sister's house.

It wound up being closer to 16 hours when Carlos finally crossed the property line into his home town. He was driving, but Cecil was the only other one still awake, running, as was his want, on caffeine and nicotine, half a pack of cigarettes down, his window open and the burning cherry lighting up the darkness of the woods just beyond the windows. He smiled at Carlos, who was starting to look delirious and flicked the ash onto the asphalt.

 

“So many trees,” he marveled.

 

“Yeah the mountains are completely covered,” Carlos agreed, “See why it took me so long to feel at home in the desert?”

 

“The /whats/ are covered with them?” Cecil asked, taking a long drag.

 

“The /mountains/,” Carlos giggled, “look out the windows. Open your eyes.”

 

“My sweet, delusional scientist,” Cecil grinned, and leaned over to plant a light kiss on his cheek.

 

“You're so cute when you're in denial,” Carlos took his hand and squeezed it, “I love you.”

 

“I love you too,” Cecil smiled.

 

He flicked the butt of his spent cigarette out the window and pressed the button to roll it up. It bounced off the welcome sign and hit the asphalt, but he didn't notice, he was far too busy studying Carlos's perfect profile to pay attention to ridiculous things like /signs/. And that's how his first act, in Carlos's home town, was to leave their municipally approved welcome sign with a new burn mark; eaten just /barely/ into the wood, just under the text that read “Welcome to” and just above the text that read “Gravity Falls, Oregon”.

 

 

* * *

 

“You know,” Cecil added, as they drove through town, “It isn't really /that/ different from Night Vale, if you don't count the climate.”

 

“Yeah,” Carlos agreed, “Most small towns are pretty similar. There's a little slice of home,” he shrugged, “Everywhere.”

 

“Mm,” Cecil agreed, sleepily.

 

“I'm sorry babe,” Carlos sighed, turning down a side-street into a residential area, “I just want to pop in at my sister's real quick, and then we'll head to a hotel. I just want to make sure she even remembers I exist...”

 

“Carlooooooos,” Cecil sang, running his fingertips down his lover's face, “You worry too much. Nobody could ever forget you.”

 

The driveway Carlos pulled into could have belonged to anyone. The suburban houses were all similar, if a little beaten down. The truck he had parked behind was in a similar state of disarray. Cecil /adored/ the yard. Carlos's sister had the same tacky taste, and had filled it with things like lawn flamingos, garden gnomes, and a planter in the shape of a duck. He audibly squealed when he laid eyes on it.

 

“Just,” Carlos looked into the seats behind them, “Let them sleep until I make sure that we're in the right place, and that we're expected.” He sighed, “Cece I /really/ hope that we haven't made this trip for nothing. No one has answered my messages... no one has... talked to me in almost three years. I'm...” he trailled off, gripped the steering wheel with renewed strength and found his voice, “I'm kind of scared my family may have disowned me. And... if that's the case, we'll just... we'll go somewhere else. Take an actual vacation. I don't know, a theme park or something.”

 

“Disowned you?” Cecil asked, tilting his head, trying to will understanding to come to him, “Is that why you've been acting so strange?”

 

“Yeah” Carlos laid his head on his hands, which were still gripping the wheel.

 

“Carlos,” Cecil whispered, and lifted Carlos's head in both his hands, forcing him to lock eyes with him, “I don't care what you've done in the past. I don't care what you did to the university, or to your family, to make them act this way. I know that you think that we're going to judge you. I understand what it can be like to have... a past worth forgetting. But we love you. We /all/ love you. Because you're /beautiful/, and /brilliant/ and /perfectly imperfect/ in every way. And anyone who can't see that doesn't deserve you.”

 

“Cece...” Carlos nuzzled into the palm of his hand.

 

“Shss,” Cecil commanded and leaned in to give him a deep, passionate, fortifying kiss, “You've faced down a smiling god, and an army of giants, helped Dana lead a revolution against our corporate overlords; you can talk to your family. We'll be right here when you get back.”

 

Carlos nodded. “Thank you, Cecil. I... I love you to. I'll be right back.”

 

He took a deep breath, and stepped out of the car.

 

 

 

He steadied himself and took in his surroundings from the stoop. Night had fallen, but there were lights on inside. Time tended to work significantly better here than it had in NightVale. He had written ahead. She should know he was coming. But she hadn't been answering her phone. There were too many variables to properly predict what would happen next; it was best to just dive ahead and be prepared for anything. What happened next did not line up with any of his predictions.

 

He knocked, and in only a few short seconds, the door opened. Behind it was not the petite, middle-aged form of his sister, but the tall, imposing form of a young man who Carlos estimated to be in his 20s. The boy was stocky, a little overweight, but still /far/ too young to be involved with his sister. She was a grandma for god's sake. Her eldest grandchild, Reginald would have been... if his math was right, around seven years old. Then he remembered that he was banging a Lovecraftian horror more than 10 times his age, and decided he had no place to judge anyone.

 

Carlos was knocked out of his thoughts as the young man spoke, “Yeah, can I help you, dude? It's like... totally night.”

 

“Um,” Carlos replied, “Yes. My name is Dr. Carlos Ramon, I'm looking for,”

 

“Whow,” the boy cut him off, “You're Carlos? No. Way.”

 

“Uh... Yes. Are you expecting me?”

 

“You're Carlos?” The boy asked again, “Like, Grunkle Carlos?”

 

“Grunkle?” Carlos crossed his arms and arched an eyebrow.

 

“Dude you look /so good/!” The boy opened the screen door for him, “Abulita! Grunkle Carlos is here!”

 

“Um...” Carlos looked up at him again. Was he calling for his sister? Was he calling his sister 'little grandma'? Who the hell was this guy? “I'm sorry, who are you?”

 

“Durr,” the young man made a show of hitting his forehead with the palm of his hand, “I shoulda introduced myself. I'm Jesus Alzamirano, but my friends call me Soos. You're my great-uncle, right? Grunkle. Great-uncle. Get it? Dude you totally look great I thought you'd be /super/ old.”

 

“Jesus,” Carlos thought back. The only Jesus Alzamirano he knew was only a year old when he left. His mother had just died, and Carlos's sister had gotten custody. He would have been four, around Casey's age. He had told Casey that there would be another preschooler for her to play with. He physically felt the color drain from his face. He mumbled, “Time is weird in Night Vale” and grabbed the doorway to support himself.

 

“You ok dude?” Soos asked and moved to help support him.

 

“How...” Carlos began, “How old are you, Soos?”

 

“Oh man I just had a birthday so like... 24? Yeah. Gettin up there dude.”

 

“How? What... What year is it?”

 

“Carlito?” Came the voice he had expected to hear, and he turned his gaze past Soos to the woman standing behind him. She was bent with age; her dark hair had gone completely silver, and she was giving him the same disapproving glare he remembered from his years growing up. His legs stopped working and the grass rushed up to meet him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Carlos diverges from Canon in that he must pass out at least once in every story he's involved in. I have no idea why that is, and I'm super sorry. Because Carlos is one of the most resilient characters EVER.
> 
> Also I want to know how predictable I am. How many people knew he was gonna be from Gravity Falls?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carlos wakes up

“I swear, he is half fainting goat.”

 

These were the first words Carlos heard as the world slowly came back into focus. He decided to concentrate on one thing at a time, letting the world slowly come back to him. He saw the glow of a television screen; the outlines of three children sitting in front of it. Characters jumping and sliding across a screen. Mario. Luigi. Toad. Voices; high-pitched and demanding but also, from behind him, low, serious... two languages.

 

“He never passes out,” Cecil countered, in Spanish, “I think you scared him.”

 

“If it's longer than a few seconds,” Earl continued, “I'll check on him.”

 

“I want your yard,” Cecil sighed dreamily, “I can't grow /anything/.”

 

“He can't. He's awful.” Earl agreed.

 

“Well it's good to see that he's gotten better,” the feminine voice responded, “He used to pass out a /lot/. And he was allergic to /everything/. Cats, dogs, mold, flowers.”

 

“PAPA'S AWAKE!” Casey called without turning to look.

 

“Thank you sweety,” Carlos sighed and snuggled farther into the couch, “For your discretion.”

 

“I like aunty Abulita,” Casey continued without looking away from the screen, “She's making cookies.”

 

“You haven't had /food/.” Carlos ran a hand over his face.

 

“Cookies /are/ food, Uncle Carlos,” Janice corrected, “It says so in the scout handbook.”

 

“Can't argue with the handbook,” Roger agreed, and it was the first time, Carlos noted, that he had said /anything/ around Janice without sounding nervous.

 

Carlos wished that they would look at him when they were talking to him.

 

“Here, Grunkle Carlos,” the young man had reached over the back of the couch and handed him a soda, “Caffine. Perk you up, dude.”

 

“Thanks,” Carlos took it gratefully, “I can't believe I did that. I /really/ wanted to introduce you...” He pulled himself up, then groggily to his feet, “How long was I out.”

 

“Couple seconds,” Earl switched languages with a practiced ease that annoyed Carlos because he had /never/ heard him speak /anything/ other than Sumarain or English and had been acting under the impression that he couldn't understand him. He had said... /things/. In front of him. /To him/. “I checked your vitals. You know I would have woken you up if you were in any danger. Soos caught you when you fell so you didn't even hit anything.”

 

“We've been filling folks in on the whole... temporal distortion thing,” Cecil happily added, “It seems like a year in Night Vale is about 6 and a half years for Organ. So that's why nobody was talking to you. You only call every couple of months and that tends to /piss people off/.”

 

“I called you every day,” Carlos reminded him sadly, “It isn't my fault our days didn't sync up...”

 

“How many time warps have you hit, Carlito?” his sister asked, a snide smile on her face.

 

“Don't,” he warned, falling into sibling habits easily.

 

“But you're /so/ tiny now,” she countered, “You're like 12.”

 

“I am an /adult/. I have a /lab/. I have /published papers/.”

 

“Thank god,” She turned to the rest of the table, “I'm so glad he found a university that would take him because he got it into his head that he could /act/.”

 

“I /can/ act!” Carlos was, indeed, acting 12.

 

“Yeah,” Cecil agreed as Earl snickered, and continued half-heartily, struggling with the obvious lie, “He's... really good...”

 

Earl broke down and laughed.

 

“Shut up Earl!” Carlos hissed.

 

Earl and Abulita stood at the same time as their highly-trained sense of smell alerted them that the cookies had reached their peak, and needed to come out of the oven.

 

“Oh,” He apologized, “I didn't mean to... it's your kitchen.” He quickly sat down, blushing.

 

“God,” Carlos rubbed his temples, “I've missed so much. Soos you were a /baby/ the last time I saw you. Where's Reggie? He'd be... god almost 30...”

 

“Oh, yes,” his sister agreed, “He just got married. You were invited.”

 

“I was invited!?”

 

“That may have been that week that the post office was haunted,” Cecil gently rubbed the back of Carlos's hand, “Well... extra haunted. It's always haunted but sometimes the spirits like to mess with the mail. You know how it is.”

 

“Lovely girl,” Abulita came back with a pan that smelled /delicious/, “I wish Soos's lady hadn't had to move.”

 

“You have a girlfriend!?” Carlos was not taking his own absence as well as his family, “But you're a baby...”

 

“Dude,” Soos pulled out his phone and flipped through pictures, eventually settling on an image of himself and a pretty girl in front of a buffet, presumably at the wedding he had missed, “Her name's Melody. She's pretty awesome. She's not a controlling robot or sentient software or anything.”

 

“That's... always good,” Carlos agreed.

 

“Ugh,” Cecil made an exasperated face, “I don't want to sound racist,”

 

“Oh god, Cece,”

 

“But I've never met a robot I've liked. My manager was a /complete/ asshole, and that /monster/ attacked my baby kitty.” Cecil finished.

 

“There are good robots,” Carlos continued, wracking his brain, “I can't... think of any right now... that aren't ficticious.”

 

“Cecil that's a straight-up lie and you know it,” Earl seem /grossly/ offended, “After poor Fay...” he trailed off, arms folded across his chest, looking angry, “Just don't... any sentence that starts with 'I don't want to sound racist', that's your cue to just stop talking.”

 

“Dude you guys have a lot of strong opinions about robots,” Soos observed.

 

“I... don't? Really?” Carlos shrugged, “So what else have I missed?”

 

Cecil's guilt came and went quickly as he took one of the cookies from the plate that Abulita sat on the table. They were buttery and soft and warm and /perfect/.

 

“Oh my /gods/, I didn't realize how hungry I was until I bit into this,” he purred.

 

Earl took one, smiled, and asked, “You don't use a recipe, do you?”

 

“Kind of,” she answered, “An old family recipe, but... it is mostly up here.” She tapped her forehead.

 

“Great chefs don't need recipes,” Earl smiled and Carlos sneered. He wasn't normally /jealous/ but that smile was usually reserved for things that made Earl /extremely/... let's say 'happy' and he didn't like it directed toward his sister.

 

“Anyway,” he loudly proclaimed, “What else have I missed?”

 

“Not much,” She shrugged, “It is a sleepy little town. Things don't change much. That woman had come looking for you, a few times. Who would have thought that people do not like it when you take their grant money and run?”

 

“That's not what happened,” Carlos countered, but was forced into silence as Casey squirmed into his lap.

 

“YOINK,” she declared, in a move that reminded him of Cecil's stealth, grabbed the plate of cookies, and disappeared back into the living room.

 

“She is so cute,” Abulita declared, watching her go.

 

“Yeah but... ok for real what's up with the eye?” Soos asked.

 

Cecil leaned forward and lifted his bangs, by way of explanation.

 

“Whow, for real?” Soos leaned in and ran his fingertips over his forehead, forcing him to close it, “Dude. How?”

 

“How do I have an all-seeing eye?” Cecil seemed confused at the question.

 

“No I mean,” Soos stared at him, “You're a guy right? ...wrong? No, you're definitely... no?” He was starting to get nervous, but Cecil just kept staring at him. Abulita smacked him upside the head.

 

“It's a long story, but she /is/ our biological child,” Carlos assured them.

 

“Sorry dude,” Soos had the manners to at least look embarrassed into his beer as his grandma glared.

 

“Um... anyway, I really don't want to talk to anybody from the university if I can avoid it,” Carlos confessed, “I don't really have anything prepared and I just... don't want to try to explain where I've been or try to explain time. Time is hard enough to explain. But it /is/ passing, isn't it? It's getting late... we should probably head out.”

 

“Head out?” his sister asked, “Where are you going?”

 

“I don't know. Like... a hotel? Or something?”

 

“Well, you're welcome to stay here. We have a guest room, and the couch folds out. The kids can take one and you and your harem can take the other.” She offered.

 

“I don't have a /harem/!” he put both hands over his face and tried to will the ground to swallow him whole.

 

“Yeah, he's a real prude,” Cecil agreed, “Do you know that a /Martian/ tried to get in on that and he said no.”

 

“That's not what happened, Cece” Carlos laid his head on the table.

 

“That's exactly what happened. He said you were the prettiest human he had ever seen.” Cecil bragged.

 

“Cecil. Stop.” Carlos thought that he had mumbled the words, but they had come from Earl.

 

“Shss, you weren't there,” Cecil waved him off, “Not that I'm even convinced Mars is a /thing/, but how many chances like that are you going to have.”

 

“Yeah I'm just gonna... go ahead and... crawl under the table and die,” Carlos offered.

 

“You better not. I don't need a haunting,” his sister warned. “Carlito was lucky that he got the looks because god knows he needed /something/ to fall back on.”

 

“I have a PhD!”

 

“You once got stuck in a tree because you angered a chicken.”

 

“...I honestly have no response to that. I should have known better. I've played Zelda.” He begrudgingly admitted.

 

“He once got trapped in an alternate dimension for a year,” Cecil added.

 

“One time, he jumped down into a miniature city full of tiny people who had a standing army. They shot him with explosives and now he has a giant scar on his chest,” Earl agreed.

 

“Yeah!” Cecil giggled, “Look!” He reaches over and pulled up Carlos's shirt to show the blast-scar on his chest.

 

“Cece!”

 

“Whow,” Soos leaned in, “That's some badass stuff right there, dude.”

 

“My poor baby brother,” Abulita shook her head.

 

“I... am smart...” Carlos didn't sound very convinced himself anymore.

 

“You're /very/ clever, sweety,” Cecil leaned in and kissed his cheek, “We're just teasing you.”

 

“You're all so mean,” Carlos pouted.

 

“We're bonding with your family,” Earl explained.

 

“By being mean to me,” Carlos looked through his hands at Earl and Earl caught the smirk.

 

“Yeah,” he agreed, “we're gonna send you to bed without supper. We've been driving all day. Where's this guest room? I'm gonna put the kids to bed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what this chick's name is so I googled it and found the Gravity Falls wiki. It wasn't that I just didn't remember it. Apparently it's never been said on the show and she doesn't really have a name. So... that's annoying. I've been using Abulita a lot because that's what Soos calls her but it's weird having a character just named grandma so idk what to do about that. I'm super sleepy. I'm going to take a nap.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three mini-st0ries describing h0w three different pe0ple wake up

Early morning sunlight streamed in through the living-room windows, giving a shocking amount of illumination to the two forms still curled up on the pull-out sofa. or, Earl reflected, as he laced up his running shoes, it could be that the lighting was dim, but his well-trained eyes cut expertly through it. He sat up straight, laced his fingertips together and stretched both arms over his head, before turning back to look at his lovers.

 

Poor Carlos. Time didn't work very well /anywhere/, Earl had decided, not just Night Vale. He had no idea how old he was, Cecil was, or most of his friends were. Carlos tried to keep time by the rotation of the planet, by the number of times an atom vibrated, by any number of arbitrary systems of arbitrary measurements, and Earl wished, with all his heart, that he would stop that nonsense. It would drive you crazy it you let it.

 

He pushed a few errant strands of hair from Carlos's face and pressed his lips to his forehead; he didn't stir. He was going to get himself killed one day sleeping like that. Then he leaned over Carlos's (more or less comatose) form to press a kiss to Cecil's forehead. He stood and made his way silently down the hall to the guest room. Casey and Janice were asleep on either side of the double bed which would have /easily/ fit three children, but Roger was curled up on a sleeping bag on the floor. He had insisted on the sleeping bag last night when Earl put them to bed and Earl shook his head. He knew that Roger had a crush on Janice, no matter how much he protested. And he knew that Janice couldn't care less, if she even knew, which was doubtful. She had no feelings even bordering on love for him, and seemed to consider them cousins since Earl and Cecil had... gotten serious. She'd never see him as a potential lover. Earl studied the sleeping form of his son in pity. He knew how much that situation hurt. He closed the door and stepped back into the hall, pressing his back against it. He darted up only when he heard another door open.

 

“oh! Mornin' dude,” Soos was half asleep still, hair mussed, clothing crumpled, “Gotta get ready for work,” he yawned.

 

“Yeah,” Earl agreed, “Hey, Soos, I was thinking about going for a run. You wanna come with me?”

 

“Just 'Soos', dude,” Soos had made his way to the bathroom and was spreading toothpaste on a toothbrush, “And nah, I get enough running at work. Not a huge fan. Too much chub.” He shook his belly with the hand that had sat down the toothpaste and watched it ripple, “Aw man...”

 

Earl smiled at him. “Alright well, I'll be back in probably twenty minutes? If you need to get Carlos up... good luck. Wake Cece and make him get him up. He's the only one who knows how.”  
  


“A'ight, dude,” Soos was not awake enough to absorb information.

 

Earl rummaged through his bag until he found his phone, and opened up his mp3 app. He stuck the headphones in his ears and his lover's dulcet tones rang through his brain, reminding him of home.

 

* * *

 

Cecil awoke to the smell of coffee. He groggily opened his eyes, then closed them in anger at the sight of the unfamiliar ceiling. It took him a good few minutes to figure out where he was, and when he finally remembered that he wasn't in Night Vale, he took another few minutes to calm his beating heart into submission before he sat up. Light streamed in through the windows, pissing him off. Light streamed from behind him, from the kitchen, pissing him off. Earl was gone from the other side of Carlos, where he was supposed to be, pissing him off. He didn't have any caffeine or nicotine in his veins, causing a shot of pure rage.

 

Fuck this morning and everyone in it. He slid off the bed in his oversized nightshirt, the one with the kitten on it, his face covered with the streaked smudges of yesterday's make-up that he forgot to take off, because he had no use for mirrors, and let the scent of coffee guide him to the kitchen.

 

“Heh,” Soos laughed, pouring himself a bowl of cereal, “You got raccoon eyes.”

 

“oh thank god,” Cecil exhaled, “I thought all the lights were on. If I've transmogrified in the night that just means that I can see in the dark.”

 

“Transmog... nah, I mean your make-up is all smudged in the eye department,” Soos explained, pointing to his own eyes. He was about to pour the milk when his grandma walked in and glared at him.

 

“Do not pour that!” She commanded, “I will cook. For the children.”

 

“Ah, dude, sweet!” Soos screwed the lid back on with enthusiasm, “Bacon!”

 

“Yay,” Cecil yawned, watching the coffee brew. He gave up this task after a few seconds, and went to dig through his pants for his cigarettes. When he came back to the bar, Soos had poured the coffee into two mugs and was filling one of them with what seemed to be a half cup scoop of sugar.

 

“How you want your coffee, dude?”

 

“I like my coffee like I like my nights. Dark, endless, and impossible to sleep through.”

 

Abulita laughed and added, “I like my coffee like I like my men. Ground up and stored in the freezer.”

 

Cecil laughed. “I like you. Your family has the 'smart' gene.” He pressed a cigarette between his lips and leaned down to touch the flame to the tip when he felt a sharp pain in the side of his head. He looked up, ready to fight or flee, just to see her staring at him.

 

“No,” She said.

 

“What?” Cecil said in return, hoping to facilitate a conversation.

 

“No smoking. I /just/ vacuumed. You go outside.” She commanded.

 

“oh,” Cecil stared at the coffee, and at his unlit cigarette, willing his brain to propel his body forward.

 

“We got a back yard,” Soos explained, “Come on, I'll show you.”

 

“oh,” Cecil said again, before using every ounce of his mental energy to shove himself away from the counter-top where he had been leaning.

 

* * *

 

Carlos /shrieked/. The cold water washed over his body and he wondered why. What fresh hell was this? Where did it even come from? Had the Glow Cloud (all hail) taken to dumping water on him now? It didn't seem like the kind of thing that the faceless old woman would do, it was a waste of resources in the desert. It was-

 

His skill in scientific observation led him to note that his sister was standing over him with an empty glass, cackling. He swore at her in Spanish, and used the opportunity to point out that she had just destroyed her /own/ couch and bedding. She ignored him and laughed.

 

“What does that mean, Papa?” Casey asked, rubbing her eyes and walking down the hall.

 

“You didn't brush your teeth!” Roger called from further down the hall and he huffed, but stomped toward the voice.

 

“Why? Why would you /do/ that?!” Carlos demanded as he groped for his glasses.

 

“Because it would be funny,” she walked back toward the kitchen.

 

“It's /not/ funny!” he stood and wrung out his hair.

 

“It is funny. Eat this bacon and eggs.” She explained.

 

“/Why/ would I do that?” Carlos asked, exasperated, his hands on his hips.

 

“You need the protein. You have gotten weak.”

 

“From your perspective,” Carlos glared, “Wouldn't you have been saying that for... thirty years now?”

 

“Eat the eggs.”

 

“I'M NoT EATING YoUR EGGS!”

 

The front door opened and Earl walked in, pulling out ear-buds, “Carlos?”

 

“You should eat something anyway,” She continued, “Look at you, so skinny.”

 

“oh god...” Earl muttered.

 

“I'm not /skinny/,” Carlos countered, “You just have no idea what a healthy body /actually/ looks like. Healthy guys aren't always... sayians!”

 

“He won't eat it,” Earl walked up, opened a cabinet as if he'd been in the kitchen his entire life, “I'm a chef. I've tried. I've tried explaining that lipids are the system through which flavor travels. I've tried explaining that spices arrange better on animal protein using /science/. He's just... stubborn. You're wasting your breath.” He poured two cups of coffee, “oh I bet you don't have any non-dairy creamer either... he won't drink the coffee with milk or without creamer.”

 

“Is there anything in this house I can eat?” Carlos glared, unsure whether he should thank Earl or not.

 

“You will eat what I cook,” she continued.

 

“You're not mom!”

 

Earl sighed. “Carlos. Hush. It's way too early for this. I'll make you something to eat. Just... hush.”

 

“He's being ridiculous! I don't know how you put up with it!” She threw her hands up.

 

“Thank god he's pretty,” Earl smirked.

 

“Dude,” the sliding door slid shut and Soos stepped inside, “He just lit one cigarette off the dying embers of the first one. That's hardcore.”

 

“He will literally live on black coffee and cigarettes if you let him,” Earl sighed, “He'll waste away. You're both really high maintenance.”

 

“I need a shower,” Carlos laid his head on the bar and Earl gently pet him as if he were a puppy.

 

“We should shower together, I'm all sweaty,” he vaguely wondered why Carlos was wet if he hadn't yet showered, “Save your sister some money. Make up for the fight.” Earl smirked.

 

“That's not a fight, Earl, that's how siblings talk to each other,” Carlos explained.

 

“I know. I've moderated Cecil and Abby for years,” Earl sipped his coffee, “Come on, let's take a shower.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cecil, Carl0s, Earl, and he kids acc0mpany S00s t0 w0rk, because he says it w0uld be a fun, t0uristy day 0f 'weird' nature walks and mystery attracti0ns. T0 the Mystery Shack!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's getting really hard f0r me t0 write anything because my 0 key is br0ken. S0 what I've been d0ing is g0ing t0 g00gle and c0pying 0ne 0f the 0s and d0ing a find+replace. It's a pain in the ass and it d0esn't d0 capit0ls.

“You're gonna love it!” Soos exclaimed, turning his pick-up onto a poorly maintained side road, causing the passengers to jostle.

 

Carlos wrapped his arms around Cecil, who was sitting in his lap, one arm and half his upper body out the window, with his knees curled up on Earl's lap. They did not all fit in the truck, which Carlos had observed, prior to following Soos to work, loudly, and repeatedly, but he was outvoted. He tried to turn to look out the glass panel into the truck's bed, without knocking Cecil the rest of the way out the window.

 

“It's really not safe to just have the kids bouncing around in the back of the truck,” He said, again.

 

“Ugh, Carlooooos,” Cecil took a long drag and leaned back, letting the wind whip through his hair, “They're /fine/, I can see them. Besides, you're always like, 'The kids should be more independent!' Now you're all, 'oh they should be sitting right beside us at all times!'”

 

“I meant Casey should be able to take his own bath, not that we should drive him down country roads with huge potholes and no seat-belts!” Carlos whined.

 

“They're fine, Carlos,” Earl's voice was calmer, with none of the subtle accusations that lined Cecil's, “Roger won't let anything happen to him. You'll get used to that gnawing sense of worry eventually. It doesn't go away, and you don't /quite/ become numb to it, but eventually you learn to cope. If we're /constantly/ worrying about every little thing, it'll drive you mad. Remember when the pterodactyls showed up at the PTA? Stuff like that is just going to happen. There's nothing you can do about it. You just have to be prepared and hope for the best.”

 

“oh man, you guys fought dinosaurs too? Dude that's so weird. Where do they keep coming from?” Soos asked, as the truck hit a particularly deep hole and bounced. A gaggle of giggles surged up from the children in the back.

 

“They weren't /technically/ dinosaurs,” Carlos mumbled, happy to see the parking lot and the tourist trap where Soos worked. The place would actually probably be fun for the kids. There was a huge, worn-down sign proclaiming “Mystery Shack” and signs that listed hikes and woodlands tours. The kids did live in a desert, and Roger and Janice were scouts. They would be able to go back and tell their troupe about nature hikes through /mountains/, with /trees/. Real trees. Trees that weren't human souls trapped for all eternity in a wooden nightmare form.

 

He lifted Cecil out of the truck and earned himself a quick kiss before he set him on his feet and went to help Soos let the truck bed down and get the kids out. Janice, at Carlos's request, was traveling in her stealth wheelchair, which had adjustable treads rather than tires, making it silent, but also better suited to the forest terrain. He couldn't lift it and sighed.

 

“How did you guys get this in here?” He mumbled, sliding himself up and into the bed.

 

“Uncle Carlos,” Janice rolled her eyes, “You make everything so /complicated/.” She pulled herself into the contraption and drove to the edge of the tailgate. Carlos shouted her name in alarm as she rolled off the edge, but she landed, almost silently, on the ground. He wanted to study that wheelchair.

 

Roger had jumped down and was examining the grounds during the time it took Carlos to have that exchange, and by the time he had scooped Casey up, he, Earl, and Cecil were standing in the parking lot staring up towards the skyline in awe.

 

“What is it?” Carlos asked,coming up behind them.

 

“...it's a mountain,” Roger said it quietly, as if he were afraid that the mere admission was a sign of some sort of /guilt/, some sort of forbidden knowledge, “Dad is it... it's a mountain?”

 

Earl knelt and put his hands on his son's shoulders. “Roger... there are some things that we aren't supposed to know. That doesn't mean that they... don't exist, per say.” He leveled his eyes and in his scoutmaster, matter-of-fact voice assured him, “Mountains do not exist. Angels do not exist. There are no mountains, /or angels/... /in Night Vale/.”

 

Roger nodded, and turned his eyes back to the skyline. Earl squeezed his shoulders again and stood. Soos had been watching them with interest and mild confusion, but when whatever strange, mountain-based ritual they seemed to be performing appeared to be over, he led them up the porch to a door under a sign that read “gift shop”.

 

“They always make you go through the gift shop to get in or out,” Carlos sighed, “Can we please not beg for random souvenirs?”

 

“We might let them pick out one thing each,” Cecil flicked his cigarette butt over the railing.

 

“I was talking to you, babe” Carlos grinned and Cecil glared, then rolled his eyes.

 

Soos opened the door to revile the half-opened store. A teenage girl was clocking in at the cash register, and Soos smiled at her.

 

“Guys this is Wendy. She works here too. Wendy, this is my grunkle Carlos and his family,” Soos smiled proudly.

 

“Ah, sweet,” Wendy stepped around the counter and extended her hand, “Didn't know you had a grunkle.” She laughed, “Welcome to Gravity Falls. How long you here for?”

 

“Well, it's 'Welcome Back,” for me,” Carlos explained. He stepped forward to take her and and shake it in the customary greeting of his people, but he walked into something solid. In his arms, Casey went rigid, and let out a /shriek/ of pain. Carlos bounced back, and jerked his outstretched hand to Casey's head, where he was clinging to his third eye and bawling.

 

“My eye! My eye! It hurts! PAPA IT HURTS!” giant tears welled down his face in streams, and Carlos shoved the others aside to get him to the porch railing, where he sat him down and pulled the eyelids back. The eye in his baby's forehead was an angry, swollen red, and he scowled.

 

“Let me see,” Earl elbowed a worried Cecil out of the way, “This is light magic,” he said almost instantly, then reached behind him to unzip Cecil's fanny pack and dug through it until he found a bottle of eye drops, “Roger! Janice! Check for light-based magic wards around the house. The last thing we need, /especially/ anybody with shogoth dna, is,” his voice took on a fake, annoying cheeriness, “Light or light or LIGHT!” He mock grinned at Casey, hoping that funny faces might calm him down, but he was still crying so hard that Carlos had to hold him down while Earl administered the eye drops

 

Wendy moved in and out of the door experimentally. Nothing happened.

 

“What the heck?” she murmured, stepping outside, then inside, then outside.

 

Cecil stepped up to the door, looked at the teenager inside, and tentatively reached his hand to the opening. He met the kind of resistance one would expect to meet from a brick wall, if bricks had the same solid consistency that they're known for, but had the corrosive effect of acid. He jerked his hand back and swore, shaking it, willing the flesh to grow back over the smoking, corroded remains.

 

“Well I guess I needed to burn off my fingerprints anyway,” he laughed, then, without becoming hysterical added, “This just hurts /so bad/. Like... /so bad/. Earl? Fix this? Please?”

 

“Why did you do that?” Earl chastised, “You saw what it did to Casey. By the gods, Cecil.”

 

“Just fix it,” he murmured

 

“There's no fixing it, you stuck your hand to a magic barrier. Just let it heal.” he brought Cecil's damaged digits to his lips and gently kissed them better.

 

Carlos was doing the same to Casey's closed eye. It didn't seem to hurt anymore, but the poor thing was still sniffling and whimpering. He picked him up and held him close to his chest. A window on the side of the house, presumably the side used for living quarters, opened, and an old man stuck his head out from the inside.

 

“Soos! What's that noise? Sounds like a human screaming. Are those beautiful men in the garbage again?”

 

Carlos felt his blood boiling. He snatched Casey closer and marched to the window. A goat was chewing on the corner of a crate, but he shooed it away and kicked the crate closer to the window and stood on it to be eye to eye with the man.

 

“Do you own this place?” He asked, “Look, I know that you people think that messing around with magic is cute and harmless, but you've /really/ hurt my kid, and whatever you did you need to come out here and undo it!”

 

“Magic?” The old man asked, thought a second, and disappeared back inside. Peering in through the window, Carlos could see that the room was a living area, sparsely decorated, but the old man had disappeared deeper into the house. He heard him shout, “DIPPER!”

 

Followed by a frantic, younger voice, a child's voice that cracked halfway through the phrase, desperately trying to start puberty but not quite pulling it off, “Whatever it was, I didn't do it! Why do I get blamed for everything!?”

 

“Uncle Carlos,” Janice tugged on his lab-coat and he looked down to see her holding something. An incredibly thin string. Spiderweb, maybe?

 

“What's that?” He asked, hopping off the crate, Casey snuggled into him, pressing his eye to his father's shoulder.

 

“Unicorn hair,” She replied with a air of Granger-esc knowledge, “We've studied it in scouts. With the proper ritual it can be used to build a light-based barrier preventing the entrance or exit of any being, fifth dimensional or higher.”

 

“Racist /assholes/” Cecil said, in such a way as to imply agreement, though Carlos wasn't sure how the words and the cadence were supposed to match. Carlos hadn't even been aware that Cecil was standing behind him.

 

“oh, dude,” Wendy's face fell, “For real? That's what it was?” she hopped off the porch and came over, rubbing the back of her neck, “I'm so sorry. That's partially my fault. I didn't know it did anything. There's this little kid, Mable, and she really, /really/ wanted some unicorn hair. But also, she's you know, a little girl, so I thought she just like, wanted unicorn hair. You know, to have. So I helped her. I didn't know it would hurt anybody.”

 

“Stan you touch that barrier and I'll put an arrow through your head!” Came another unfamiliar voice from inside.

 

“It's a fuckin /kid/,” came the voice of the old man Carlos had berated.

 

“They shape shift! They can take the /form/ of a child! You take that barrier down, you're inviting any demon to just waltz into the house! Think of the portal!”

 

“Yeah I'm still actually pretty /pissed/ about the portal! And about the fact that you sent Mable out to fight a unicorn! She's TWELVE!”

 

“She's fought a demon twice! You underestimate her.”

 

“Don't put my /fucking kids/ in danger again!” There was the sound of a scuffle, then something /loud/ slamming into the wall nearest to them, then the old man spoke again in a low, rumbling voice, “You hear me? We understand each other?” there was a pause, during which no discernible reply was heard, but apparently some sort of agreement was reached, because when the voice spoke again all it had to say was, “Good.”

 

The front door opened and the man stepped out, now dressed in a business suit, an eye-patch and a fez. He looked around until his gaze eventually fell on the group huddled by his wall and he frowned. He turned and yelled back inside, “Soos! Get out here and take down this unicorn hair that dumb nerd put up to /attack children/ like a selfish /monster/ because he's scared of his ex boyfriend! You know, the one who got beat up by a twelve year old? That for some reason strikes fear in his heart!”

 

Another older man rushed out, shoved the one in the business suit down, jumped the railing, and screamed. “No No No! THEY'VE ALREADY TAKEN A PHYSICAL FoRM! The barrier has been broken!” He ran both hands through his hair and tugged, “Damn it, Stan! This is your fault! You're not taking any of this seriously! You're going to get us all killed.”

 

“Gonna get /you/ killed, maybe, ya ungrateful asshole,” Stan had pulled himself up and was dusting himself off. He turned to walk calmly down the stairs as Ford ran around the house, freaking out and tracing the broken strand of hair until he sensed the group he had stood in fear of. He wheeled on them, in one motion his hand was inside a shoulder holster and back out with a gun pointed directly at Cecil's third eye.

 

“I see you, demon.” He hissed, “Stand down.”

 

“Wow,” Cecil huffed, his hands on his hips, not showing submission /at all/. “Rude. Is this... is this a /common/ greeting among your people, Carlos? Am I supposed to threaten him back? Attack /his/ children?”

 

“No,” Carlos stepped protectively in front of Cecil and handed Casey to him. He glared at the man, but the man took a step back.

 

“It can't...” He shook his head, “You're not...”

 

“Put the gun down,” Stan jerked his arm and the man, instinctively squeezed the trigger, firing a plasma bolt into the air, “God, damn Ford. Frickin paranoid jumpy...” he shook his head and turned to the group, “Sorry. Sorry. My brother's crazy and we usually keep him locked in the basement. Got stuck in an alternate dimension for a couple decades. Messed up his head. You know how it goes. Come on Ford. /Back/. /Inside/.”

 

“Carlos?” Ford asked, batting Stan away, eyes wide, “Carlos Ramon? The paranormal investigator? The /scientist/.”

 

“Yes?” Carlos cocked his head, eyes traveling over the man before him. It's been decades. This man seems to know him. Who does he know that is batshit insane, named Ford? He honestly didn't remember his time before Night Vale very well, and with every passing hour he remembered it less. His eyes finally landed on the hand holding the gun. Six fingers. Ford... insane... six... “Pines?”

 

“You know each other?” Stan asked.

 

“We went to grad school together,” Ford replied, eyes still narrowed at Carlos, “Which is to say we /would have/, if this were actually Carlos and not a demon in disguise.” He raised the gun again, “But this 'man' appears as I remember him, not as he actually is. Carlos would have aged. Would be /my/ age. They're just pulling from my memories. Showing me what I want to see. They must have gotten better... I thought after the surgery...”

 

Carlos held his hands in a gesture of submission, “Ford, I can't read your mind. But you're... not making any sense. And your unicorn hair /really/ hurt my kid. So put the gun down, ok? Before you hurt someone else. You don't want to do something you regret.”

 

“Why are you so young and beautiful!?” Ford accused, without lowering the weapon.

 

“I got stuck in a temporal abnomily,” Carlos explained calmly, “For me, it's only been three years.”

 

“...yeah... yeah I guess that... makes sense. For me it's been over thirty...” Ford admitted, then, “Tell me something only Carlos would know.”

 

“Stanford,” Carlos was beginning to get annoyed, “That doesn't make sense. If you think I have the ability to read your mind then I would know whatever you think I know. This is a paradox. It's a particularly /stupid/ paradox. I'm officially tired of this. Casey is /hurt/. I'd /love/ to know what you're so afraid of that you're willing to attack a /preschooler/ but you need to stop pointing that gun at my family, because I don't know if you can feel it or not, but that creeping horror crawling up my spine? Seeping out from behind me? That's coming from my half-shogoth boyfriend who is /allowing/ me to try to settle this my way before he steps out from behind me and murders you to death. He once had a man killed because he didn't like the haircut I got.”

 

“I did not have him /killed/” Cecil huffed, “I had him /banished to the desert to die/. Those are two completely different things.”

 

“Cece I'm trying to be intimidating. Do you know how hard that is for me? I'm not good at it. And I was /gonna/ say that Earl cooks human flesh but now I've lost my flow and it's not gonna sound /nearly/ as scary as I meant for it to be.” he sighed.

 

“oh,” Earl shrugged, “I mean that's not really even that scary anyway. Everything at tourniquet is voluntary cannibalism. We never /attack/ anybody.”

 

“Earl,” Carlos sighed.

 

“Never mind,” Ford slid the gun back into the holster, “It's Carlos.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> R0ger is startled and Earl defends Carl0s's h0n0r

The kindly old man, Stan, the one who hadn't set traps for, nor actively attacked anyone, herded the children into the store, leaving the adults to deal with Ford. Soos appeared soon after, holding the tuft of hair spun around his palm like a skein of yarn.

 

Stan stepped in front of Janice's wheelchair, which he had been pushing, with a flourish, and spread his arms wide, “Alright kids. I'm sorry about my idiot brother. He's the evil twin. You know how it goes. Anyway, help yourselves to anything from the store,” he began talking quickly, “Doing-so-counts-as-a-verbal-agreement-that-you-have-been-compensated-and-in-no-way-hold-Mystery-Shack-incorporated-liable-for-any-injuries-which-may-have-resulted-while-on-properties-owned-and-or-operated-by-said-corporation” he paused, took a breath, and looked down to see that he children had scattered. Janice was examining his collection of embrioes in jars, Casey had opened a vile of unicorn blood, and Roger was looking through the adult sized clothing rack. Stan shrugged and went to join Wendy by the register.

 

Roger thought that it might be a nice opportunity to get something for his father. He hated to capitalize on Casey's injury, but it wasn't this nice man's fault that his brother was a lunatic. You didn't get to select your family. He thought. He didn't actually remember meeting Earl, or being born, or coming into existence in any way. He couldn't remember anything before being 11. He wasn't even sure that he /was/ 11. He was small for his age, and at school they had held him back, before they found out how smart he was. He was primed to skip a grade at the end of the year, which would put him in middle school... with Janice.

 

“HI, MY NAME IS MABLE I'M 12 YEARS OLD, I HAVE A PIG! ONE TIME I PUNCHED A UNICORN IN THE FACE! YOU WANT TO GET MARRIED!?”

 

The girl had jumped from the middle of the garment rack he was shifting through, in direct defiance of his highly trained scout senses. He had turned a shirt, and she was there, all bright colors, and shining braces, and he was /completely/ unprepared. He shrieked, stumbled backwards into the shelf of curios behind him, sending a wave of snow-globes shattering to the ground. He threw his arms up to shield his face, but he was nervous, and when he got nervous he came... undone. He could see through his arms. He cursed, and fought back the tears that threatened to spill over as his memory supplied his classmates, their shrill, child-voices filling the hall with chants of 'ghost boy, ghost boy', and he lost the battle. He gasped and pressed his transparent palms to his eyes while the tears spilled out, and the girl came out of hiding to step closer.

 

“Hey, hey,” she spoke gently, cheerfully, in a manner that he knew was /supposed/ to be comforting, but it was just as bad as the teasing, in it's own way. She felt sorry for him. He didn't need her sympathy. “I didn't mean to scare you. I'm Mable. I live here. I like your invisibility powers.”

 

Roger stumbled and ran for the door. He wasn't solid enough to push it open but he somehow managed to run /through/ it, which was not something he had predicted, and as a result, he ran through the porch railing, and hit the ground face first. He thought he heard someone calling his name, but he ignored them, stumbled to his feet, and disappeared into the woods.

 

* * *

 

“You got stuck in another dimension too?” Ford asked, as he holstered the gun.

 

“Ford,” Carlos massaged his temples, “I really, /really/ try to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, but I don't think I can talk to you right now. You hurt my child. You tried to shoot my boyfriend. I just... don't think I can do this.”

 

“Carlos, I have to show you something, I've been researching this area, which, as you know, is a hotspot for paranormal activity. I think it has to do with a crashed alien spacecraft, I can show you if you want to come with me.” He was talking quickly, searching through his pockets until he produced a book from somewhere inside the trench coat he wore.

 

“I'm... not going to do that, actually?” Carlos was speaking slowly, carefully. Refusing people was not in his nature and it did not come easily to him.

 

“Carlos!” Ford grabbed him by the shoulders, “There is a /reason/ that we've both returned here, now, before the rift manag-” he paused, and screamed.

 

Earl had taken the wrist of Ford's hand closest to him, the hand that Ford had dared to lay on Carlos after he had been rejected, and was steadily pulling it away from his boyfriend.

 

“He said no,” Earl explained calmly, “Mr.... Pines? Was it? You have violated the trust of your /former/ colleague, and he no longer respects you enough to work with you. He has explained, several times now, that he doubts the ethical quality of your work,”

 

“And your character!” Cecil added.

 

“Right. And your character. Carlos is disinclined to work /or/ travel with someone who has shown no qualms at injuring children and threatening people he doesn't know over a /perceived/ threat. I'll admit that I'm unfamiliar with customs here in Oregon, I am an interloper here, but Carlos has made it clear to us that these are not /common/ behaviors. And if you /ever/ threaten my family again,” he jerked Ford's wrist, pulling him away from Carlos and knocking him off his feet. He put his hands on his knees and looked down at him, “I /will/ teach you how we deal with threats in /Night Vale/. Now, kindly give Carlos some /space/, and act like a human being who understands social interactions, and try to regain his trust, rather than forcing him to follow you. If he wants to see a spaceship, he'll call that alien Cecil keeps talking about”

 

Ford massaged his wrist and jerked his head up to see Carlos blushing and hiding his face as Earl defended his honor.

 

“You're in communication with aliens?”

 

“No,” Carlos whimpered.

 

There was a thud as something hit the ground in front of them. Carlos jerked, instinctively toward the sound, spotted one of the children he was in charge of, and called after him.

 

“Roger?” he jumped over Ford in pursuit of the boy.

 

“Who?” Earl asked.

 

Cecil's face fell and he put a reassuring hand on Earl's shoulder, and gave an affectionate squeeze.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little kids kind 0f make up and 0ld pe0ple kind 0f fight

Carlos followed Roger, calling his name as he ran into the woods surrounding the gift shop. Roger wished that he would just stop, and let him disappear already. He didn't understand how the nerdy scientist was keeping up with him, /him/, a trained scout who was running /through/ the trees and stumps and rocks that Carlos had to dodge, but he never seemed to fall very far behind.

 

“Roger /please/,” Carlos begged, “I am not in good shape! My chest hurts! Stop!”

 

Roger skidded and planted himself under a tree, hoping that it would obscure him. He was incredibly good at hide-and-seek. Unfortunately, so was Carlos. He wheeled around at the same spot Roger had, and turned to face him, panting heavily and looking like he was about to collapse. His glasses were askew and his hair all disheveled and he obviously couldn't catch his breath, and Roger was going to feel /awful/ if he was the one who had killed him.

 

“Thank you,” Carlos's sincerity wasn't lost on the boy, and he collapsed beside him. He pulled a penlight out of his lab-coat and shone it over Roger, studying him better than he could in the sunlight that filtered through the canopy of trees, “God, Rog, you can /run/.” He paused, pulling up Roger's sleeves to check how much of him was threatening to disappear, “I need you to concentrate for me, ok?”

 

Roger nodded and Carlos dug through his pockets, eventually pulling out a roll of medical tape.

 

“What brought it on this time?” He asked, holding Roger's shoulder firmly, reminding him that he /did/ exist, that he /was/ still there. Roger took in the touch, felt the warmth spread across his body, and slowly, his arms were solidifying to match. He heard a /shloooooooooop/ sound and looked down. one strip of flesh hadn't appeared when it should have and had sloped off, leaving a bloody mess of flesh and muscle. Carlos lost no time in wrapping it up. His arms were back, but much of his flesh was colorless, a dull gray, and he couldn't /really/ feel them. They would heal up, eventually, Carlos, and Cecil, and Casey, and Earl had all assured him, at different times.

 

Roger watched Carlos patch him up, wondering if he should tell him or not. But Carlos was the only person who seemed to actually be trying to figure out exactly /what/ he was, and how to cure him. He could confide in Carlos, he knew, without fear of rejection.

 

“There was a girl,” he admitted.

 

“Janice?” Carlos asked, and Roger shook his head.

 

He thought back, about what she had said that had startled him. “No... no she said her name was 'Mable'. She claimed to have fought a unicorn. I think that she may be the one who hurt Casey. She has a strange /power/about her. She doesn't like people like us. She may be a light mage. I think she wants to hurt us.”

 

“You were only in there for a few minutes,” Carlos tied off the bandage, “How did you get that much information so quickly? You're a real scientist.” He jerked his head to the side as a bush rustled. As he watched, two children appeared, a girl and a boy, both around Roger's age,and looking nearly identical. Carlos didn't move. He liked kids, but he wasn't about to let them hurt Roger. God knows that /he/ had been bullied enough in his youth that he didn't trust a child just by virtue of being a child. Kids could be cruel.

 

The girl looked like she was about to cry, and the boy, presumably her brother or clone, pushed her forward. Carlos watcher her wearily. Roger watched her with his guard up.

 

“Hi,” She said sheepishly, “I didn't mean to scare you. My name's Mable. This is my brother Dipper. I just... thought you're really cute and when I see somebody like you my brain goes, 'Hey Mable, you might wanna jump at that before somebody else does'. And then I don't think, 'oh that might be scary'.”

 

“She's /real/ in-your-face,” Dipper agreed, and Carlos recognized the voice as belonging to the child the old man had tried to blame the unicorn hair on.

 

“You're a demon hunter!” Roger accused, standing, but keeping himself safely behind Carlos.

 

“Haha WHAT?” Mable waved a hand dismissively, as if she didn't understand where he would get such an idea, but she couldn't pull it off convincingly, and so hastily added, “Demon? What? Noooooo. What's that? We've never fought any /demon/. And /definitely/ not a dream demon.”

 

“/Mable/,” her brother warned, and she trailed off into a fit of false laughter. He turned to Roger, “Look. I'm sorry she scared you, man. There's not a whole lot of boys our age that come through here and she's real prone to this kinda... 'crush of the week' thing. You ok though?”

 

Carlos stood as well, and smiled down at Roger. Roger studied his poor, naive face, and remembered that he wasn't supposed to know that Carlos's trusting nature had gotten him trapped in an alternate dimension with that evil smiling man, covered in blood, wearing yellow triangles and Uncle Cecil's face like he had any right to it. Uncle Carlos was not a good judge of character. His approval of these people meant nothing. If anything, they would end up having to protect him from his own willingness to see the best in people who had no goodness in them.

 

“We should head back to Casey,” he finally decided. Carlos nodded in agreement, and offered his hand.

 

* * *

 

“Because you have /consistently/ made the W0RST possible decision in any given scenario your entire life,” Stan was explaining, patiently, leaning on a cane while Ford, having picked himself up, glared at him and shook with rage.

 

“You have /literally/ invited a /demon/ into my /house/” Ford hissed at him, pointing toward the door.

 

“Meh,” Stan shrugged.

 

“Stop breaking /everything/ I make! This is /infuriating/! I cannot stress enough how badly this could go /wrong/, Stanley. We are talking about a complete obliteration of the entire /universe/. These are /demons/, walking around with a /physical form/. They are from another dimension! That portal is dormant because it could be /used/, /by demons/, to enter our dimension and /take a physical form/. This is our worst nightmare!”

 

“It's a preschooler. You can't keep this up, Sixer. Gonna give yourself a heart attack.” He stood and stretched his arms above his head, “Look. I get it. You're jealous. But just because you let /one/ little demon inside you, and he turns out to be an asshole, that doesn't mean you get to be a dick to every demon you see. World doesn't work like that.”

 

“You think this is about /jealousy/!? What could I possibly have to be jealous about?” Ford gestured wildly toward the house, “This is about the /danger/ that /you/ are putting us in!”

 

“0h, I don't know? Maybe that your friend there is still all young and hot and we're... we are /rough/. You look in a mirror lately? Honestly wouldn't kill either of us to like... get some dye and some of that, what's-it-called? You put it on your face and it fixes, ya know, this mess” he ran his hand over the general area of Ford's face.

 

“Collagen,” Ford answered, but quickly snapped back into attack mode, “Stan /shut up/. No, I'm not /jealous/ of Carlos. We are going to die if you-”

 

“0h!” Stan interrupted him, “I get it,” he waggled his eyebrows.

 

“If you're going to say what I think you're going to say-”

 

“Look, Sixer, there comes a point where you just gotta realize that you are /terrible/ at relationships. You got no charisma. I think I sucked it all outta you in the womb. That one's totally on me. But yeah, you're not getting in on that.” Stan patted his shoulder condescendingly.

 

“/Stan/.” Ford took a deep breath to try and calm himself down, “This is not about me and my... this is not about me.” He paused and crossed his arms, “But if it /were/, I am /not/ bad at relationships. I've had /way/ longer relationships than you have.”

 

“I got a woman /right/ now. You're legally married to a coin machine. The last human that you dated is bangin a raccoon” Stan counted off on his fingers, a smirk on his face.

 

“Literally /none/ of that is true.” Ford rubbed his eyes under his glasses.

 

“It totally is. I got a girlfriend. Her name's Susan and she makes killer pie.” He looked to the side, “Woman's got... a lotta cats, but ya know. I'm not as young as I used to be. Take what ya can get.” He paused and looked down, “I have gotten /fat/.” He sighed.

 

“Wait do you really have a girlfriend?” Ford narrowed his eyes at him, “Then /why/ are you out on the road trying to get with spider monsters!?”

 

“I mean... are we gonna stop and pretend that I'm a good person? Like at /this/ point? At this stage of our lives we're still gonna do that?” Stan tilted his head, genuinely confused.

 

“Stan, get the demons out of the house!”

 

“You need to calm down. Not my fault you drive everybody away. You couldn't even keep other /nerds/. Who are now, I remind you again, /fuckin a /raccoon/. You messed him up so bad he swore off men and like... humanity.”

 

“STAN MY EX IS N0T HAVING SEX WITH A RACC00N! N0NE 0F THEM! THAT IS N0T A THING THAT PE0PLE D0!” Ford shouted in frustration, wishing for once that he had paid attention in boxing class and had the ability to hit Stan in his stupid face without getting his ass handed to him.

 

It was at that moment that Carlos, and three children, emerged from the woods.

 

Stan glanced over his shoulder at the group and spoke to them, “Hey kids, you met McGucket's wife right?”

 

“You're not talking about that... raccoon, are you?” Dipper asked, walking up to them.

 

“They're such a cute couple,” Mable laced her fingers together, “Their son rents out boats up on the fishing lake.”

 

“They don't have a /son/,” Ford explained, exasperated.

 

“Yup,” Stan smirked, “Half raccoon kid.”

 

“Can you two not encourage him?” Ford rubbed his forehead, trying to will the pain in his prefrontal lobe to face, “And help me get the demons out of my house?”

 

“You know, Ford,” Carlos's voice shook and he decided not to finish his sentence, and instead head into the gift shop where his family would be, tugging Roger by the hand.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twin-scheming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wasn't going to update this anymore, because I had finished Gravity Falls, and it's over now. But I've been going through some really rough times lately, and I just wanted something to get my mind off of it. So I wrote a chapter. I think I'm just going to treat it as if it happened prior to Weirdmageddon, so it might wind up being a non-canonical AU or whatever. Idk. I'll fuck around with it.

“It's just RUDE, is what it is,” Cecil dug through the T-shirt rack, glancing sideways at Earl, “It's not even some weird outsider ritual. It's just rude.”

 

“I can't believe Carlos used to hang out with him,” Earl agreed.

 

“I don't think it's somuchthat they hung out, as it is that they used to work together. You don't get to pick who you work with,” Cecil snarled and put a hand to the back of his neck, where his hair covered the mark that would likely always be there, the yellow triangle covered by a bar code.

 

Earl frowned and laid a hand on his shoulder, and squeezed, in a gesture that he hoped indicated that he acknowledged the indescribable pain Cecil had gone through while he was away. Cecil leaned into the touch and accepted the physical contact, but whether or not he understood the intended message was unclear.

 

“Daddy!” Casey pulled at his sleeve and Cecil looked down at him, “I AM IMMUNE TO THE UNICORN MAGIC”.

 

“Are you?” Cecil knelt and pulled Casey's eye open, examining it for injury. It was no longer red and inflamed, but the deepest possible shade of brown in the iris, the same dark pools that he gazed into when he locked eyes with Carlos, so deep and dark one could metaphorically drown in them, lose their soul in them. Casey had beautiful, uninjured eyes. “How did you do that?”

 

“I AM ONE WITH THE UNICORN!” Casey explained, and threw down an empty glass vile, that shattered on the ground at their feet. Then he turned on his heel and ran to Janice, who was carefully examining the display of commemorative mugs.

 

“Where did they even /get/ unicorn blood?” Earl stared at the glistening liquid as the last few droplets clung to the broken glass.

 

“Oh, dude,” Soos got between them with a broom and swept the shards into the dustpan, “Funny story. I mean I don't know it, cause I didn't go, but Wendy did. I think she beat a unicorn down. Just straight up beat-down. WENDY!”

 

The girl at the counter looked over her magazine, “Yo!”

 

“Commer and tell my Grunkles how you got that unicorn blood!”

 

She put down the magazine and made her way over, “Ok so I don't usually do things, because, you know, doing things is so lame, but this horse was making me /so mad/, right. She was all, 'Eeeew you're a bad person cause you're /twelve/',” she explained, giving the unicorn a ridiculous voice, “So I was all, 'whaaaaat? That's not cool.' So I punched her in her stupid face. She was all, “ugh ugh stab stab' cause she had the horn, ya know, but nah I beat her /down/. YAS.”

 

Wendy's recounting had been punctuated with several full-body movements, and to avoid being hit, her listeners had backed away, but now, she stopped, put her hands in the pockets of her jeans and looked up at them.

 

“Yeah so I didn't even notice, so when I came back, I was covered in the blood. So Stan was like, 'Let's bottle that and sell it', but he watered it down a /lot/. Cause there was only so much of it, you know?”

 

“Your storytelling skill is impressive,” Cecil dug around in his pocket and pulled out a business card, “Have you ever considered a career in radio? We're always taking intern applications. You can get college credit.”

 

“Yeah? I'll think about it,” Wendy smiled and looked at the card, then slid it into her pocket.

 

“If you call, ask for Cecil,” Cecil instructed as Stan walked inside, one arm around Carlos's shoulders. Carlos was holding Roger's hand, but released him when they got inside. Roger, for his part, walked to Janice and Casey without meeting his father's eye, but while making sure to give the cold shoulder to the other two children who had been tailing Carlos.

 

“Complete Jackass,” Stan was saying, “30 freakin years tryin to get this jackass back, fix his portal, everythin, you know what he says to me? He says to me 'Get outta my house'. Like 'Buddy I've lived here three decades longer than you. Who do you think you are? I mean right? Am I right? Of course I'm right.”

 

Carlos said nothing but looked incredibly uncomfortable. Ford stood in the doorway glaring at Stan, and did not notice that there was something at his leg until the pain radiated through it. He grabbed the wound and fell to put his weight on his good leg, fully prepared to punch whatever had bitten him full on in the face. Casey had sunk his teeth into Ford's shin, and hung on for dear life. He had somehow punctured the skin /through/ the thick cloth of his pants. Before Ford's hand could collide with the child's face, Roger had grabbed his wrist. He screamed as one of the many guidebooks his brother was trying to sell hit him full in the face, and Janice reached for another.

 

“Kids!” Cecil yelled, marching toward them, “What do you think you're doing!”

 

“Casey!” Carlos yelled, prying him off Ford, “What were you /thinking/? You know you absorb genetic material from blood. You have /no idea/ what he is or where he's been! We don't /bite/ people!”

 

“Cecil bites people,” Earl smirked.

 

“That might be the funniest thing I have ever seen,” Stan braced himself on his knees, he was laughing so hard.

 

Mable felt a hand on her shoulder, and Dipper silently drug her from the gift shop into the living area.

 

“I don't like this,” He began.

 

“Well... he is /really/ little, and Grunkle Ford /did/ hurt him. I used to be pretty bitey too when I was that little. Remember?” Mable elbowed him, “Hey. Hey Dipper. Remember?”

 

“/Yes/, I remember. But that's not what I'm talking about. That boy, Roger, has invisibility powers. We watched him not only turn invisible, but /run through solid objects/ like they weren't there.”

 

Mable's eyes sparkled and she clasped her hands together, “Like a superhero...”

 

“And now his little brother can apparently shape-shift. Didn't you hear his dad? He said that he could /change his DNA by drinking blood/.”

 

“Like a vampire,” Mable agreed in the same dreamy voice.

 

“What? No that's... that's not at all how vampires work. Mable. Focus. There's something else. The other guy, the one who looks... super touristy with the fanny pack and the Bermuda shorts... we can't trust him. I looked up at him while he was distracted and... he has a yellow triangle tattooed on the back of his neck.” Dipper pulled out a book and started flipping through it.

 

“Well,” Mable /tried/, “Maybe it's a... different... magical... yellow triangle...”

 

“It was the exact same symbol, Mable. He's connected to Bill. I don't know how, but I know we can't trust him. Gruncle Ford knows it too.”

 

“Dipper. I love Grunkle Ford as much as the next guy, but he can be a little,” she waved her hand, “He's been gone a /long/ time. And even before that he was a lil bit /eccentric/. Maybe we shouldn't follow every single thing he says. He was so paranoid he got surgery to put a metal plate in his head.”

 

“Grunkle Ford is the /author/. He /is/ an authority on this... weird paranormal stuff that's going on in this town. I think he was trying to talk to that scientist. And the other two are keeping him from doing it. Come on, Mable, he's obviously a prisoner. He's not on a family vacation! He's wearing a lab coat! He has a danger meter and a geiger counter in his pockets!”

 

“How do you know what he has in his pockets?” She asked, staring intently at him, then smiled, “Just kidding, I know you're a creep.”

 

“I am /cautious/, so I /pay attention/.” Dipper countered. He sighed and added, “Look, Mable, it's worth checking out. Just /please/ don't do anything else stupid like jumping that guy. We need to keep a close eye on them.”

 

“Maybe I did come on a little too strong,” Mable said, and seemed to think that she was agreeing, which to Dipper, indicated that she wasn't listening to him at all, “But what should I /do/? I think he hates me now.”

 

“I mean... I think he's a demon, maybe? You should probably /not/ try to date him?”

 

“Yeah that's what you said about Mermando too, and what happened there?” Mable asked, and immediately answered herself, “/I/ got a kiss from a merman. That's what.”

 

“I feel like that was not the lesson to take away from that experience. You still didn't /date/ a merman. It didn't work out. Just like this won't work out.” Dipper paused, staring at the book open to the yellow triangle symbol. He pulled out the blacklight that he had taken to carrying, and shone it over the page.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I just really like writing Stan and Ford. Particularly when they're not around the kids and Stan can let loose like he did on that security tape when they caught him stealing the toxic waste.

Ford propped his leg up on the kitchen table and rolled his pants up as Stan stood in the doorway laughing at him.

 

“This is the /exact opposite/ of /funny/, Stanly,” he scowled as he poured alcohol onto a cloth and applied it to the bite wound on his shin, “I was bitten by a /demon/. It drew /blood/. Blood that can be used in ritualistic ceremonies against me. I don't know /what/ that /demon/ did to Carlos or that other guy, but he's got them wound around his little finger. He says jump and they both leap before they catch themselves.”

 

“Yeah it's called 'love', asshole,” Stan smirked, leaning against the door, “Or... did they say he was a shapeshifter? Don't you queers love the cock? I mean... hell, if you can change it... Don't even know that /I'm/ that straight.”

 

“Don't say 'queer',” Ford glared at him, “And /no/ it's not... they're not... /we're/ not hypnotized by cock... that's not how it works. That's really insulting.”

 

“You know what else is insulting? Beatin the shit outta somebody, disappearing for thirty freakin years and poppin back up without even so much as a 'thank you'.” Stan crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe, thought better of it, walked to the table, picked up the bottle of rubbing alcohol, and squeezed half of it over Ford's open wound. Ford /howled/ in pain.

 

“WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM!?”

 

“My /problem/ is that you're a piece of shit spoiled brat who thinks that just because he's got some book learning he's the smartest person in the room. That pretty little scientist in there has a PhD, a job, a boyfriend, /and/ a family,” he sneered, “And that just /burns/ you up, don't it? You ain't said a /goddamn/ word to McGucket since you got back. You wanna hide in the basement and bitch and moan about /demons/, about some asshole who did you wrong /three decades ago/? And you don't give a /shit/ about the people who /actually/ care about you. Who dedicate their /fuckin lives/ to getting you home safe? And you use the excuse, 'I'm a scientist, I gotta do this, I gotta do that, I gotta investigate, I gotta close the portal'. Fuck you. And your excuses. Stay away from my kids. And don't hurt any more of my customers. I got a tour group to run. And watch your godamn mouth around the kids. You were cussin up a storm in from of them and I don't want them goin home with any new choice words.”

 

Ford was wrapping his wound and glaring at Stan, “A scientist is self-sufficient. It's the first thing a scientist is. You should have left the portal /alone/. It couldn't hurt anyone broken and dormant.”

 

“Whatever,” Stan adjusted his eyepatch and walked out of the kitchen.

 

* * *

 

“Casey you have /got/ to stop biting people,” Carlos explained as he wiped the blood from his mouth, “We don't know what kind of effects that can have. It makes us really /concerned/.”

 

“There's a portal in the basement!” Casey told him, as if it were a reply, which it absolutely wasn't, which made Carlos think that he wasn't paying any attention to him at all.

 

“/Casey/,” he sighed, “I'm /serious/. No biting. If you bite anyone else I'm going to /have/ to put you in time out, and I really don't want to. Look at me. I can't punish people. I'll cry.”

 

“But Papa,” he pleaded, “He's a /bad/ man. He wants to hurt me and daddy!”

 

“Violence isn't the answer,” Carlos explained and looked to Cecil and Earl for support.

 

“Are you sure?” Cecil asked, completely sincere, “I mean... it seems like it could be. I don't like that guy. You know who he reminds me of?”

 

“Don't say it, Cece,” Earl warned.

 

“Steve /freakin/ Carlsburg,” Cecil continued. “You can look at him and tell that he's one of those crazy, 'I think I know more than anyone else and I'm going to tell you whether you care or not' types. Going on about aliens. Like we don't /all/ know about the aliens. Nobody /cares/, Steve.”

 

Carlos stood, lifting Casey and holding him tightly, because he no longer trusted him to his own devices, “Hey, Wendy? When does the nature hike start?”

 

Wendy looked at the clock over her shoulder, “Stan usually sets out around 10, then takes about an hour through the woods and the freakshow and everything. Get back here and to the Mystery Shack around lunch. He's late. But not a big crowd today, so he's probably not super worried about it. It's cool though. It's a good tour.”

 

Cecil walked up to the counter with a length of rope and put it down gently, “Hey do you think one could contain a human child with this?”

 

“Dude we got those backpacks,” Wendy pointed out, gesturing toward them.

 

“A child leash, Cece? You think it's that bad?” Carlos cradled Casey in his arms.

 

“We can't just let him bite people. We're gonna get sued.” he walked over and started sorting through the backpacks, “besides, it's not really a /leash/, it's a backpack. That one is strapped into and cannot escape from.”

 

“Our kid is attacking people... are we bad parents?” Carlos looked at him with concern as Cecil strapped Cased into the backpack with the slogan “Mystery Shack Man-o-taurs” on the back.

 

“Honestly,” Cecil brushed off his concern, “I'd be /more/ upset if he hadn't defended himself. You're so /gentle/, my beautiful Carlos. You don't seem to understand how important it is to stand up for yourself. I think people so rarely attack you because they get distracted by your beauty, so you never developed the instinct.”

 

“I... don't think that's it,” Carlos set Casey on the ground and he immediately ran, fast and hard. The length of chord /snapped/ so hard it pulled Cecil's upper body, and the harness stopped Casey in his tracks. Cecil pulled and the child fell flat on his butt, and started crying.

 

“Oh... Cece, we can't do this... he hates it,” Carlos's eyes were wide with empathy and concern.

 

“We're going out into the /woods/, Carlos. I won't have him running off on us.” he wound the chord around his hand as he walked over to Casey. He picked him up by the shoulders and sat him on his feet before looking into his eyes, holding him there. Cecil had helped to raise Janice, and dealt with his teenage interns for as long as he could remember. He understood, better than Carlos, about 'survival rates' and the necessity to prepare children for hardships using not only indulgence but discipline.

 

When he spoke, it was slowly, deliberately, and in his deep radio voice that would not be ignored. “Casey. I have never been in this wilderness before. I don't know what kind of creatures roam it, I don't know what kind of dangerous plants lurk waiting to lure you to your death. I am doing this because I /love/ you and will /protect/ you, because you are far too much like your Papa in that when you see something interesting, you jump into it without thinking. I almost lost him. I will /not/ lose you. We're still going exploring. Nothing bad has happened. You are /not/ being punished. Stop throwing a fit.”

 

Casey wiped his eyes on his forearm and stared at Cecil, then nodded.

 

Earl was looking at the sub-par survival equipment when Stan came into the gift shop and declared that it was time for the mid-morning Mystery Tour. He counted the small group that has assembled, which included Soos's Grunkle and his family, a few miscellaneous tourist couples, and two agents from the vague, yet menacing government agency.

 

“Anyone interested in the Mystery Tour, meet outside in five minutes,” he announced, then in a lower voice, “Wendy, man the fort. SOOS, KIDS, come on. Come on the tour with me. I don't want anybody else to have to stay here and deal with Ford. Wendy if he tries to talk to you, just mace him.”

 

“I only have bear mace,” she said without looking up from her magazine.

 

“That should work,” Stan agreed, ushering everyone out.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So I wanted to write this OTP because of a BUNCH of other stories not only here by also on tumblr, but at the point it's at in /this/ story, it's still kind-of-sort-of awkward for Carlos and Earl, because like in most of these stories, the entire arrangement was Cecil's idea and hasn't been /super/ well thought out. This takes place in roughly the same universe as "The Child" because it needed to be an AU, and hopefully at some point the timelines will sync up. Hopefully. This is a crossover but I want to let people guess what it's crossing over with, so I haven't included it in the title or tags until it actually shows up in the story.


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